


Things about Bokuto Koutarou

by guardiansofthefantasy



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, akaashi has a list, i bought strawberry pocky for this, im sorry washio and sarukui barely show up, like konoha komi and kuroo, like. thats all i can say, one day ill know how to tag fics, soft, some short appearances from other characters, this is so soft and self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:14:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28910670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guardiansofthefantasy/pseuds/guardiansofthefantasy
Summary: Akaashi keeps three lists about Bokuto in his notebook. Two about his weaknesses, one is categorized in the chronological order he’s learned them in, and the other is categorized by the frequency in which he shows them in volleyball.The third list is almost as chaotic as Bokuto himself.Things I know about Bokuto Koutarou.It's Akaashi's favourite list.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 10
Kudos: 93





	Things about Bokuto Koutarou

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this as a gift for my sister, and i wrote this in a super short period of time, because i have absolutely zero time management skills.  
> enjoy some bokuaka content!

Akaashi Keiji likes lists for a number of reasons.

  1. They’re organized
  2. They’re simple
  3. They’re impeccable
  4. They’re straight-forward



He keeps a notebook of lists in his school bag, and a different notebook of to-do lists on his desk.

He keeps a million more in his head, as a form to organize his thoughts. (It doesn’t work, but the attempt offers enough excuse to be able to say he’s tried.)

Bokuto Koutarou is everything lists aren’t.

  1. He’s chaotic
  2. He’s complicated
  3. He’s flawed
  4. He’s difficult to understand



Akaashi keeps three lists about Bokuto in his notebook. Two about his weaknesses, one is categorized in the chronological order he’s learned them in, and the other is categorized by the frequency in which he shows them in volleyball.

The third list is almost as chaotic as Bokuto himself. It follows no order, and the pages are covered in differently coloured arrows and lines, stretching from one note to the other. Most words are written down hastily, Akaashi’s own handwriting hard to read even for himself. Akaashi wrote down the title after starting the list, which is unlike his usual routine, and it is squished between the edge of the page and the first point.

_ Things I know about Bokuto Koutarou. _

The list fills a double page, and another quarter of a page a few lists later in the notebook.

Logically, the list is the exact opposite of everything Akaashi’s lists are, just like Bokuto, but Akaashi thinks it’s his favourite list of them all. One day, he tells himself, he will copy it in his neat handwriting, making sense of all the things Bokuto is and all the things Akaashi knows about him.

☆☆☆

**_1\. Bokuto is a presence both on-court and off-court._ **

The first thing Akaashi learns about Bokuto is something he learns before he even knows his name. It’s the same moment he falls in love with volleyball all over again, the moment he chooses to attend Fukurodani, and the moment he sees him for the very first time.

It’s also the second thing Akaashi learns about Bokuto, when he sets foot onto the school grounds and his eyes are immediately drawn over to a small group of second years skipping over the pavement. That isn’t quite right, Akaashi’s eyes are drawn to one  _ specific _ second year of said group, grey and black hair styled high on his head, and a smile so bright it rivals the sun. 

Akaashi can’t look away. He stops walking, just so he doesn’t run into anything, and he just  _ stares. _ He simply cannot help himself. Bokuto is entrancing and captivating.

The same thing happens again, a few hours later, when Akaashi steps into the gym where volleyball practice will take place, to sign up for the club, and he watches Bokuto run, jump, and spike, the ball hitting the floor on the other side of the net with a loud bang.

Akaashi tightens his grip on his bag, anticipation building up in his stomach. He can’t wait to set for Bokuto and play with him. 

  
  


**_9\. Bokuto likes to spend his break with Akaashi, even if he has other friends._ **

The first weeks, Akaashi spends his lunch break in the cafeteria. Then he discovers a quieter spot outside by the stairs to the basement where barely anyone ever hangs out, and that’s where he’s been eating his lunch ever since.

It’s a peaceful silence compared to the busy cafeteria, and he likes a break from his classmates, even if most of them are nice.

His peace and quiet lasts for a month and a half, and then Komi finds him and asks if he’s alright.

Akaashi assures him he’s fine and enjoys the time on his own, and Komi leaves him be. Akaashi assumes that will be the end of it.

He’s wrong.

Two days later, when he’s just settled down in the cool shade of the building, Bokuto approaches him. Akaashi doesn’t see him, until Bokuto has rounded the corner and almost stumbles over Akaashi’s legs.

“Akaashi!”

“Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto settles down next to him on the stairs, pulling out his bento box. “Komi told me you’re always sitting here on your own.”

“Komi-san is correct,” Akaashi replies patiently, watching Bokuto try to lift a rice ball with his chopsticks.

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

Akaashi slowly picks up his own chopsticks. “Not really. I quite like the quiet.”

Bokuto nods solemnly, licking over his lips to catch the bits of rice that got stuck. “I will be quiet then, Akaashi. So you don’t feel bothered.”

“I’m not feeling bothered, Bokuto-san.” But Akaashi still thinks it’s a nice sentiment. He doesn’t quite know yet, how hard it is for Bokuto to be quiet when he really wants to fill every silence. 

Bokuto sits down next to Akaashi on the stairs the next day. And then the day after. And when the weekend passes, and Akaashi wonders if Bokuto will have forgotten about it on Monday, Bokuto shows up again.

He’s always smiling brightly, and true to his words he does his best to be quiet.

Sometimes, when Akaashi notices him getting fidgety, he will prompt a conversation, and Bokuto jumps at the chance every time.

When the days get warmer, Bokuto brings an extra bottle of water for Akaashi, and on some days, they wander around the school grounds aimlessly instead of sitting at their designated spot. Akaashi knows that Bokuto is close to his own classmates, and the other second years of the volleyball club. He wonders why Bokuto still spends his lunch break with Akaashi.

But every single day, without fail, Bokuto shows up wherever he assumes Akaashi to be, and (despite his words) starts talking animatedly. Akaashi finds he doesn’t mind his loss of peace and quiet all too much. There’s a different kind of peace that comes with being around Bokuto.

  
  


**_13\. Bokuto’s favourite movie is Tangled._ **

By the time Bokuto is done moving around and shuffling through the blankets, Akaashi should have known what they are going to watch.

He always picks the same movie, has been since Akaashi has met him. 

Konoha groans, kicking a pillow. “Tangled again?”

“It’s my turn to pick,” Bokuto protests, shifting into a more comfortable position between Akaashi and Komi.

“You  _ always _ pick Tangled,” Konoha argues, throwing a pack of sour gummies at Bokuto.

“It’s my turn! I’m allowed to!”

Akaashi leans back and exchanges a glance with Komi. It happens way too often that their group meetings end up being just the four of them, with Washio and Sarukui weaseling themselves out of it. They prefer to enjoy their movies in silence.

“I’m tired of this movie,” Konoha says, crossing his arms. Akaashi looks at Bokuto, who pouts and hesitates to press play. 

Komi grabs the remote and presses play. “Those are the rules, Akinori. We watch your horror movies without complaint, too.”

They do not. Konoha chooses a differently gruesome or psychologically scary movie every time it’s his turn, and every time Bokuto will whine and spend most of the time hiding under the blankets. Akaashi is starting to suspect Konoha is only choosing them to get back at him for picking Tangled over and over again.

Bokuto rips open the package of sour gummies as Flynn starts talking. No one scolds him for being too loud. Akaashi figures they all pretty much know the words by heart by now. (And they’re watching it with subtitles because either Komi or Bokuto will start talking during the movie. It’s always the same, no matter what they watch. Akaashi doesn’t mind it much—he’s not here for the movie. He’s here for the team bonding, or whatever the excuse for those movie nights is.)

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says quietly, “why  _ do _ you always pick Tangled?”

Bokuto beams at him. “It’s my favourite movie!” 

Akaashi nods, and doesn’t mention that it’s only two years old. He wonders what had been Bokuto’s favourite movie before.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto hums and leans closer. “Ask me why it’s my favourite!”

Akaashi humours him. “Why is it your favourite, Bokuto-san?”

Konoha presses his hands to his face, muffling a groan. “Akaashi-kun, why must you fall for this every time?”

The answer is almost obvious, and Akaashi is surprised Konoha doesn’t have the same reaction. But maybe Akaashi is the only one who likes hearing Bokuto talk about the things he’s passionate about. 

That has different reasons:

  1. Bokuto gets incredibly happy when he’s allowed to talk.
  2. If Bokuto is happy, the risks of him getting himself worked up over small things decreases.
  3. Most of the times, the things Bokuto talks about are actually interesting.
  4. Akaashi learns something new about Bokuto or his passions every time. It’s refreshing
  5. All Akaashi has to do is listen. Bokuto doesn’t expect him to participate or even pay attention in those conversations. It’s a nice break from socialising, sometimes.



Bokuto beams at Akaashi, again, which truly is a sight Akaashi could get used to, and dives into an explanation on why Flynn is the best Disney Prince, why  _ I’ve got a dream _ is his favourite song, and why the horse is the funniest character in the entire movie.

  
  


**_26\. Bokuto’s hugs are warm and comfortable._ **

The first time Akaashi gets to play an entire game as Fukurodani’s setter, they lose.

It’s a simple practice match against Ubugawa, but Akaashi still feels horrible and defeated, and it’s not because they lost.

Well, it’s  _ also _ because they lost, but that’s not the only reason.

Being face to face with another strong team is exciting and frightening at the same time, and Akaashi’s fingers have trembled so much, it had been hard for him to tie his shoes. And then they lost, and while Akaashi logically knows that it’s not his fault, he still feels responsible for it. The team pats his back and tells him it’s alright and that it doesn’t matter much, it’s only a practice match, Akaashi-kun, don’t beat yourself up over it, but Akaashi is disappointed with himself, and he can’t shake it off.

In Akaashi’s first year, they don’t make it to the Inter High Preliminaries, and in the Qualifiers for the Spring Tournament they end up third place in Tokyo and miss going to Nationals just barely. Unsurprisingly, Bokuto is the one most obviously upset about it, but the rest of the team is similarly deflated.

Akaashi, now marked with more losses than wins if he recounts correctly, still hasn’t figured out a way to stop blaming himself for his every move in the match. He’s the slowest when they cool down, and the last to shower. When he’s done changing, most of the team has left to head back to the bus. Bokuto is slumped on a bench, staring at his hands. Akaashi feels like he should say something.

“It isn't your fault that we lost, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto looks up at him, chewing on his bottom lip. “I know. But it’s so hard not to blame yourself.” He closes his hands to fists and frowns deeply. “I keep thinking about all the spikes I missed. It’s like none of my cross shots scored any points.”’

Akaashi sits down next to him, staring down at his own hands. “I know how you feel. I keep thinking about everything I should have done better.”

“Your tosses were great, Akaashi,” Bokuto says. “It isn’t your fault that we lost.”

“And it isn’t yours either,” Akaashi repeats, firmly. Bokuto unclenches his fists and gets up.

“You’re right.” He puts his hands on his hips and grins at Akaashi. “Next year, we’ll go to Nationals both times, and we’ll win both times. And then I get to buy a cool shirt, and you’ll buy one too.”

Akaashi slowly gets up too. “We have enough time to improve.”

“Exactly, Akaashi!”

“And if your cross shots don’t work, we’ll practice line shots.”

Bokuto beams at him and nods excitedly. “Yes! We’ll be unstoppable, Akaashi.”

He has his arms wrapped around Akaashi before he even knows what’s going on. Akaashi makes a surprised sound, but then he realises that Bokuto’s hug is really,  _ really _ nice. It’s warm, and comforting, and Akaashi finds himself enjoying it, despite the fact that it’s a hug. He bites his lip and hides a smile.

“We’ll be unstoppable, Bokuto-san,” he echoes, and then he brings his arms up and hugs Bokuto back.

  
  


**_32\. Bokuto seems to have an unlimited amount of energy._ **

“Akaashi!” Bokuto snatches him away before Akaashi can follow his teammates to the showers. “Toss me a few balls?”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, the exhaustion of the day slowly seeping into his bones. “We should get changed and make sure to get some dinner before it’s all gone.”

The prospect of food is usually enough to convince him to let it be, but this time, Bokuto smiles at him and shoves a volleyball into Akaashi’s hands. 

“Just a few to practice my line shots,” he asks, bringing out his best pout. Akaashi doesn’t want him to go to bed in his emo mode, so he sighs and agrees.

“Only a few, Bokuto-san,” he says, “no more than twenty.”

Bokuto nods eagerly, and Akaashi already knows he’s going to end up setting way more than twenty balls to Bokuto. 

Akaashi is almost as far as to get Bokuto to come and have dinner with him, when Kuroo saunters into the gym, smirking brightly, his eyes promising nothing but trouble. Akaashi suddenly feels the need to throw a volleyball into his face. 

“You guys still practicing?”

“Yeah!” Bokuto exclaims, already grabbing Kuroo’s arm. “Jump me a few blocks!”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, trying to channel all the patience he has left, “we need to get dinner.”

“We can practice some more and  _ still  _ be in time for dinner,” Bokuto argues, slipping under the net. “Come on, Akaashi!” 

So, Akaashi slips under the net as well and tosses the ball back to Bokuto, and he gets into his position, and sets for Bokuto another few times. 

Bokuto doesn’t tire. 

Akaashi stops counting his tosses. But when Kuroo stops jumping to his full height, and Bokuto still looks at Akaashi expectantly, waiting for another precise set, Akaashi feels like he’s losing the ground under his feet. 

“Are you still here?” Konoha asks, standing in the entrance. Akaashi has never been so happy to see him.

“This damn owl has unlimited energy,” Kuroo says as way of explanation, but the moment he notices Bokuto being distracted, he’s slipped out of the gym, past Konoha. Akaashi feels the urge to throw a volleyball at Kuroo increase. He’ll keep it in mind for the next training session.

Now, he throws the volleyball into the cart instead and quickly makes his way over to Konoha, before Bokuto gets any more wild ideas. “Is there still dinner left, Konoha-san?”

Konoha grins and pats Akaashi’s shoulder. “He’s a restless one, isn’t he?”

“Indeed.” Akaashi turns back and waves Bokuto over. “Let’s have dinner, Bokuto-san. Your spikes will be even better tomorrow, after a good night’s sleep.”

Bokuto hums happily and trails along behind Akaashi. “Will you toss me again, Akaashi?”

“Tomorrow, Bokuto-san.”

  
  


**_37\. Bokuto is more attentive than people give him credit for._ **

It’s something Akaashi notices over an extended period of time. Bokuto is subtle with it, almost to the point where it could be brushed off as coincidence.

The first time is during an exceptionally hot afternoon run, when Bokuto hands Washio an extra bottle of water he’d brought, because Washio tends to forget his.

Another time, Bokuto settles down next to Komi, wordlessly spreads his history notes on the gym floor and starts explaining a topic Komi has been struggling with all week. 

They’re on the bus home after a practice match against Nekoma. Sarukui is sleeping in the window seat in front of Akaashi, his head gently banging against the window in the rhythm of the drive. Konoha, next to Akaashi, isn’t quite asleep, but he’s not awake either. Neither is Akaashi, if he’s honest. His limbs feel heavy and he’s tired. Bokuto, in the seat next to Sarukui, takes his teammate’s arm and pulls him against his shoulder instead. The quiet thud of a head against the window stops and Akaashi feels himself drift off.

When the first snow falls in Akaashi’s first year, Bokuto drags Akaashi into a small onigiri shop, waving his hands excitedly. He’s telling Akaashi that he hopes he’ll like the onigiri (even though Bokuto isn’t the one to make them), and that he actually remembered to bring money this time (later, Bokuto mentions that he borrowed it from Shirofuku, and Akaashi makes sure to pay her back, because he knows Bokuto tends to forget.) It’s a small gesture, but sweet, and Akaashi is surprised that Bokuto remembered his favourite food in the first place. It only came up once in a conversation a while back.

Before their first game in the new school year, Bokuto sits down with the new first years and encourages them in his very own way. Akaashi watches him, gently massaging his own hands, and after a few moments decides that Bokuto doesn’t need his help cheering others up. 

Akaashi notes it all down. 

  
  


**_45\. Bokuto doesn’t freeze as easily as Akaashi._ **

Late summer nights are unpredictable. Akaashi doesn’t particularly like them for that very reason. They’re either way too warm, the air thick and heavy, with no breeze to cool his skin, and his shirt sticking to his back with sweat, even though Akaashi has taken off as many layers as he possibly could.

Or they’re colder than the day has been, catching him off-guard and unprepared, wind wafting through his hair and tousling it, making it a nuisance to comb later. 

When Akaashi steps out of the gym after a long practice, it’s not even dark outside. That doesn’t mean all too much though, since the nights are short and rarely dark, no matter how late.

Much to his chagrin, it was one of the cold types of night. The morning had been unbearably warm, so he hadn’t even thought about packing a spare jacket before leaving for school.

Akaashi shivers as the wind runs over his skin, giving him goosebumps. He sighs and pulls the zipper of his back open, digging through his practice clothes. His club jacket isn’t in his bag. Akaashi slowly pulls the zipper close again. His mother offered to wash it yesterday. He must have forgotten to pack it again.

He’s going through the options in his head:

  1. Accepting his fate and freezing on the commute home
  2. Wearing his practice shirt underneath his thin sweater
  3. Buying a jacket or sweater on the way home



The last option isn’t really an option though, so he mentally crosses it off the list again. 

“Akaashi!” Bokuto saunters out of the gym, pulling the door closed and pushing the key into the lock. “Did you wait for me?”

“Not really, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi admits and watches him struggle to lock the doors for twenty-seven seconds, before he decides to interfere. “Shall I help you?”

Bokuto turns around to him, a bright smile on his face. “Nah! Don’t worry about it, Akaashi.”

It takes him another thirteen seconds until he has locked up the gym to his satisfaction. Akaashi is relieved to see that Bokuto doesn’t throw the keys into the air triumphantly this time, but rather lets them slide into his bag. Akaashi hopes Bokuto won’t have forgotten he put them in there by tomorrow morning.

“Do you want to go home with me?” Bokuto asks, his jacket thrown over his bag.

“My parents are expecting me for dinner, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi explains ruefully.

Bokuto blinks, then he quickly waves his hand in front of his chest. “No, no, no, sorry, Akaashi. I didn’t mean—I was talking about—”

Akaashi waits patiently, squinting at Bokuto. His eyes are getting more and more tired by the minute, and he makes a note to see a doctor about it soon. (His parents both wear glasses and his mother has implied that Akaashi’s sight might get worse over the years as well. He had hoped it’d wait until he was done with High School.)

“Would you mind if we walked together?” Bokuto finally settles on, watching Akaashi with curious eyes.

“Not at all, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi tells him and they head towards the gates of the school grounds. 

The night, unfortunately, stays cold, and Akaashi keeps freezing. He doesn’t show it, because he doesn’t want Bokuto to worry, but then they round a corner and the wind blows directly into their faces. Akaashi can’t prevent the shiver that runs over his body, or the sound of his sharp intake of breath as he tries to brace himself for the cold.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto stops walking and looks at him. “You’re cold.”

“Striking observation, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi sighs. “I forgot my jacket.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Bokuto smiles at him and hands him his own jacket. Akaashi only takes it because Bokuto hasn’t been wearing it anyway, and doesn’t seem to be cold.

Bokuto’s jacket fits Akaashi perfectly, just like his own. (It makes sense, since they’re wearing the same size.) It’s a little too big at the shoulders but the comfort is familiar. Akaashi pops the collar and buries his face behind it. The jacket smells like Bokuto’s soap and laundry detergent.

“Aren’t you cold, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto gives him a blinding smile and grabs a fistful of Akaashi’s—his—jacket, pulling him along. “Don’t worry about it, Akaashi! I don’t get cold easily.”

  
  


**_48\. Bokuto’s hair smells like coconut and orange blossoms._ **

It’s beyond Akaashi how they have become so comfortable with touch around each other. Bokuto might not be the kind of person to keep personal space, but Akaashi very much is—not that he’d ever push Bokuto away, unless he becomes too much.

Which happens rarely.

Bokuto is a hugger and a cuddler, too, as Akaashi finds out.

He drapes himself all over his classmates at training camps. It’s the same now, at nationals.

Most members of the team are done rolling out their futons and shaking out their pillows, trailing into the bathroom in small groups.

Akaashi is sitting on his futon, trying to listen to Komi’s story, when Bokuto plops down in front of him, presses his face into Akaashi’s stomach and wraps his arms around Akaashi’s middle.

Komi pauses for a moment, watching Bokuto with an amused smile, before he resumes his story as if nothing happened. Akaashi drops his hand in Bokuto’s hair and pats it absently, even though it’s still damp from the shower he had just taken.

Bokuto is always warm, and so his embraces are, too. Konoha sits down next to Akaashi and pokes Bokuto’s thigh with his toes.

“Isn’t he heavy?”

“Only a little,” Akaashi replies, stopping his petting. There’s no reaction from Bokuto.

Sarukui throws his towel at Konoha, effectively starting a pillow (and towel) fight on the futons. Akaashi is too tired to tell them off, even as Komi leaps at the two of them squabbling. It’s times like this where it’s hard for Akaashi to believe they’re third years.

He sits it out, ducking away from pillows flying in his direction, although his motion range is limited with Bokuto still resting in his lap. 

Washio ends up winning the fight by hoarding all the pillows, and then Konoha lectures him on playing unfairly while Sarukui struggles to pull his pillow out of his grip. Akaashi looks over at the first years, lying at the end of the futon sea, unbothered by the turmoil and most definitely arguing over a game on their phones.

“I think he’s asleep,” Komi tells Akaashi as he settles down two futons next to him.

“He appears to be,” Akaashi agrees, slowly trying to stretch his legs under Bokuto’s weight.

Konoha flops down on Akaashi’s right again, pulling the blanket around his shoulders. “We can peel him off you,” he offers.

“That won’t be necessary, Konoha-san,” Akaashi says gently and slides into a lying position. “It does get quite cold around here.”

Washio helpfully drapes a blanket over them. “If he kicks you at night, you’re allowed to kick back.”

“In fact, I think we should all be allowed to kick each other,” Sarukui says. “In our sleep, of course.”

Konoha’s foot meets Sarukui’s side before he finishes speaking. “Agreed.”

“Ow, Konoha, you’re so mean!”

“Shut up,” Komi groans from Akaashi’s left, “some people are actually tired.”

Akaashi shifts for a while until he’s lying comfortably. Washio turns off the lights and shoos Sarukui aside, so he can sleep between him and Konoha and prevent further fights.

In the dark, Akaashi can feel Bokuto shifting, too, but he doesn’t seem to wake up. His hair tickles Akaashi’s cheeks, smelling like coconut and orange blossoms. He smiles and lifts a hand, burying it in Bokuto’s soft hair.

  
  


**_54\. Bokuto’s lips taste like strawberry pocky._ **

“Bokuto-san, I wonder… is there a reason you say my name so much?”

Bokuto hums and bites into his pocky. “I just like how it sounds. Akaashi.” He laughs and Akaashi has to avert his eyes. Bokuto shines so bright, and Akaashi will never get used to it. It’s for him. “I like the way it feels to say. Akaashi.” He grins. “Akaashi.”

Akaashi stares at the pattern on the ground, the uneven pavement under his shoes. His ears are tingling pleasantly with Bokuto’s laugh. His neck and face feel hot, and he can’t stop fiddling with his fingers. He likes the way it sounds, too. The way Bokuto says his name. 

“Akaashi,” Bokuto hums again, and Akaashi bites the inside of his cheek and hides his smile. “It’s a nice name.”

Bokuto shrugs, as if nothing he just said has any effect on him at all, and nudges Akaashi gently. “You’re pretty.” He offers his pockys to Akaashi and Akaashi takes one, even if strawberry is his least favourite flavour. 

“Thank you, Bokuto-san.”

They’re behind the gym, watching the wind breeze through the trees behind the school. It’s quiet around them, safe for Bokuto’s pocky and his gentle humming. 

“You say my name a lot, too, Akaashi,” Bokuto speaks up again, smiling brightly. Akaashi nods, entranced. It’s almost like he’s back in middle school, watching him spike, and falling in love. Can you fall in love if you’re already in love?

“I suppose I do, Bokuto-san.” 

“I like the way it sounds from you,” Bokuto tells him. He’s always so blunt when it comes to things that leave Akaashi feeling slightly weightless. “You say it nicely.” Bokuto hands Akaashi the package of pocky (it’s empty) and runs a hand through his spiked hair. 

“I like saying it,” Akaashi replies. “As you do.” 

There's a silence stretching out into the air around them, but Akaashi has since learned that silences never take long to be filled by Bokuto. He has learned to appreciate it, rather than be annoyed by being disrupted in his quiet.

Bokuto takes Akaashi’s hand. It's a small movement, incredibly innocent. It isn't even the first time it has happened. But the blood rushes into Akaashi’s face, and his hand feels hot in Bokuto’s grip.He doesn't dare to move or open his mouth. A smile is stretching his lips, despite himself.

"I like you, Akaashi," Bokuto says, his voice unbelievably quiet out here in the open, but Akaashi hears him anyway. 

"I like you, too, Bokuto-san," he replies and looks up to meet Bokuto’s eyes. 

Another thing for the list: 

  1. Bokuto likes to watch him.



And then, Bokuto does something impulsive and brave, and so very much Bokuto, Akaashi isn't sure why he's surprised. 

He kisses him. 

And Akaashi kisses back, crumpling the strawberry pocky package in his hand.

Bokuto’s lips taste like strawberry pocky, if that's something lips can taste like. And Akaashi thinks, as his eyes flutter close, that maybe they might be his favourite flavour pocky after all.

☆☆☆

Akaashi likes lists because they're a simple way to document his studies. Bokuto might be everything lists aren’t, but that doesn't change the fact that he is Akaashi’s favourite study, and that his lists about Bokuto are his favourites. Especially the one that’s as messy and unpredictable as Bokuto himself.

And maybe being a little bit chaotic, and complicated, and flawed, and difficult to understand is exactly what makes him so much more interesting than the most aesthetically pleasing list could ever be. And maybe Akaashi really doesn’t need to copy it neatly, because it’s a work in progress and he likes it just the way it is.

He skims through his notebook for another free page, and starts writing.

_ More things about Bokuto Koutarou. _

**Author's Note:**

> visit me on twitter [@heamptyart](https://twitter.com/heamptyart) to yell at me or [see some snippets of wips](https://twitter.com/heamptyart/status/1358457830810992642)


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